People Will Talk
by R2s Muse
Summary: The Inquisitor has an awkward encounter with Cullen that reveals some lingering issues from his time in Kirkwall, but also complicates her relationships with both the Commander and Solas. Set during DA:I, mid-game. F!Lavellan/Solas, F!Lavellan/Cullen. Rated: M
1. Vir dirthera

_**People Will Talk**_

_**By R2s Muse**_

_Disclaimer: The Dragon Age setting and its characters belong to Bioware. I'm just borrowing!_

**A/N: A story slightly inspired by the "thanks for the memories" theme for the BSN Cullen thread Page 5000 celebration, it started out about Cullen and then Solas kind of ... slipped in there. My DA:I experience in a nutshell! :) Hope you enjoy! **

**Special thanks to my beloved beta, MeanieWeenie, who may actually romance Solas now. :D *eyebrow waggle***

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**Chapter 1: Vir dirthera**

Del grumpily yanked open the door to the war room and was preparing her unapologetic excuses for being late, when she saw Solas and her day immediately brightened.

The tall elf was speaking softly with Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana, and the corners of mouth had curled up like they did when he enjoyed sharing a story from the past. The three women listen raptly, caught in his spell, but he turned at her entry and smiled from across the room, that private mysterious smile that made her heart race in delight. The smile that he only shared with her.

As Del approached them, he was saying, "I am glad I could be of service. I will now leave you all to your meeting." He nodded cordially at the advisors in parting and then turned to go.

He passed Del without stopping, only saying, "Inquisitor," in that bright, business-like voice he had used when they were strangers. The voice he still used too often with her.

"_Vhenan_," she blithely responded. He paused briefly at her use of the Elven endearment, and his expression flashed with something like pleasure or annoyance, perhaps both. He inclined his head almost imperceptibly and continued out of the room without another word. The door swung shut behind him, and it was like the sun had retreated behind a cloud. Her heart sank.

It was obnoxious to call him _my heart_ in front of the others, even if they didn't know Elvish. But she couldn't help it. These days she found herself recklessly trying to provoke any kind of reaction from the man who had kissed her twice, but otherwise maintained a studied distance from her, even in private.

He had warned her, of course, that getting involved was a bad idea. He sometimes studied her, with those sensuous lips pursed and dark brows lowered in intense focus, as if he was puzzling her out like one of his ancient texts. He made her feel enigmatic and important. Special. Like a priceless book or painting worthy of a pedestal. But she also craved a connection that was far more plebeian and intimate.

Of course, when he took her in his arms, she saw a whole different side of him, ardent and uncontrolled. The fire that burned just below the surface. The fact that he tried to hide that side, even from himself, made her want it more. She would give anything to see his careful barriers fall again and to experience all of him, not just the polite, scholarly façade.

Or perhaps she never saw that side of him because he no longer burned for her.

She sighed, and Leliana eyed her speculatively. "Solas was sharing some of the stories he knows about Halamshiral while we were waiting for you and Cullen," the spymaster said. "He is very . . . experienced, no?"

Del grunted a non-committal response at Leliana's nosy prodding. Del's experience with Solas, or lack thereof, was none of Leliana's business, spymaster or no.

"Where is Cullen, by the way?" Josephine asked. "It is not like him to be late _as well_." She pressed her lips together in a subtle indicator of her annoyance.

Del grimaced at the dig. "I'm sorry," she mumbled about her own tardiness, even if they should expect it from her by now. She would never be an early morning person, not like her advisors seemed to be. Cullen particularly.

"Indeed. Cullen normally sends word if he will not attend," Cassandra agreed, her perfect brows drawing down.

Del finally pulled herself out of her self-absorption over Solas. It was true. Cullen was never late.

What the others didn't know was that Cullen was having a harder time managing his lyrium withdrawals than he let on. Just the day before he had considered taking it again until she had talked him out of it. She eyed Cassandra, hoping Cullen's sudden lack of punctuality didn't make her jump to the right conclusions.

"I can send someone to his tower," Leliana offered, gesturing to one of her agents lurking covertly in a shadowed corner.

"No, I'll go," Del said in a rush. "It will give me a moment to wake up a bit myself." Before anyone could object, she slipped out of the room and into the labyrinth of passageways and stairs that ultimately led to Cullen's patchwork tower.

She knocked on the door first, feeling intrusive for checking up on the commander of her armed forces like he was an errant schoolboy. "Cullen?" she called. There was no answer, so she yanked open the heavy door and stuck her head inside. "Cullen?"

His office was empty. She stepped further into the room, and her footsteps were loud in the silence. A half-written report lay on his desk next to the barest stub of a well-used candle.

She frowned. _Where could he be?_

She was headed back to the door when she heard a faint murmur echo off the walls. She paused to listen and heard it again. The babble of indistinct words and the rustle and creak of a mattress tick. Her attention turned upward toward the ladder that led to his sleeping quarters.

Did Cullen just oversleep after working too late the night before? Should she wake him? The man worked so tirelessly, she decided to let him rest and give the others his regrets.

"No!"

She froze with her hand on the door handle at the plaintive cry, her head whipping upwards again. She listened intently and heard more murmuring, punctuated with sounds of distress.

She was halfway up the ladder before she questioned the propriety of barging into the commander's bedroom. She stopped just before reaching the top and cleared her throat noisily. "Um, Cullen?"

The only response was the susurrus of shifting bedclothes, a low moan, and labored breathing. She waited, wracked with indecision, imagining their joint humiliation if she had misinterpreted the sounds. What if he wasn't alone? She almost started back down the ladder, when she heard him call out again. A wordless sound filled with fear.

She peeked her head up into the room. A single blanketed form on the bed thrashed to the side and muttered angrily.

"I trusted you!" he cried, before trailing off into a heartbreaking sob.

She dashed up the ladder and approached the bed, thinking only that she never wanted to hear that sound ever again. Cullen was locked in some sort of nightmare, his closed eyelids rolling in terror. Perspiration beaded his forehead and his lips twitched, forming soundless words spoken to unseen specters. He thrashed his head to the side. His bare shoulders strained atop the rumpled blanket, like he struggled to escape the dream.

"Not the same . . . never be the same . . .," he insisted in a low voice.

"Cullen?" she repeated. "Cullen!" He didn't seem to hear, so she drew closer and sank down to perch on the edge of the bed. She put her hand gently on his arm, hoping to draw him slowly out of the depth of sleep. Or at least out of the dream. "Cullen, wake up."

He shot up unexpectedly from the bed and grabbed her shoulders, gripping them roughly in his hands. Startled, she gasped, unsure what he would do. Or what she should do. His face came close to hers but his gaze was unfocused, caught in the nightmare still. The circles under his eyes were more pronounced than usual.

He frowned at her in his sleep and mumbled, "...wouldn't ask me to . . . She's nothing like you . . ." He leaned closer, pressing his forehead to hers. She held her breath, searched his face, willing him to see her, worrying what would happen were she to wake him too abruptly.

When their skin touched, he took a deep breath and seemed to relax into her. He sighed and his breath fanned across her face. She could feel the heat from the bare skin of his chest.

"I know you would never ask," he murmured. "I know you." He tightened his hands on her arms and stared intently at her, his face still a breath away.

Hoping some sense was returning to him, she said tentatively, "Cullen? Are you okay?"

He answered by crushing his lips to hers in a searing kiss that was touching in its desperation.

She stilled in surprise, shocked both at his boldness and at the responding warmth that blossomed inside her. When she didn't move right away, his hands slipped up to cup her face and his lips moved against hers, soft and seductive. The inconvenient heat unfurled in her belly.

She wasn't sure who he thought she was, but clearly he was beyond reason. She pressed her hands to his chest and pulled away.

He released her mouth and whispered, "Delilah."

White hot shock flashed through her at the use of her name. _Her given name_. No one knew her real name. Her hated shem name, bestowed by a city-born mother who had thought it sounded Dalish.

_How could he know?_

Beyond the mystery of _how_, was the strange thrill of _who_. Awake or not, he thought he was kissing her. He _was_ kissing her. Suddenly she couldn't breathe and her whole body tingled at the realization, coaxing the neglected fire inside her into a roaring torrent.

He took advantage of her hesitation and his mouth crashed onto hers again, drawing her body up against his and holding her tightly like a man drowning. A gorgeous, naked man drowning. His tongue slipped between her parted lips and tangled with hers. She reeled under the onslaught and closed her eyes as she started to respond.

He dipped her back to press her flat on his bed, looming over her with desperate, needy kisses. She moaned softly, overwhelmed by the wanton passion she'd been craving. Craving from . . . Solas.

She went cold and immediately stopped, pressing her hands against his bare chest more firmly this time. "Cullen!" she cried in a strident voice.

He leaned back from her, the haze of sleep and desire lifting from his countenance and his cheeks flushed red as he realized what was happening. "D-Del . . . Inquisitor! I'm . . . I'm so sorry." He jumped back from her until his back was against the headboard and snatched the bedclothes up to cover his nudity.

She sat up unsteadily, and they stared at each other with glazed eyes while their breathing returned to normal. She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, mortified that she hadn't woken him sooner. More mortified that she remembered too clearly the press of his lips against hers. "N-no, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have startled you awake. Y-you were having a nightmare," she said. "I thought I could help," she added in a tiny voice.

"Maker's breath," he swore, dropping his face into his hands, which trembled. After a moment, he looked up at her and squared his shoulders. "Inquisitor, you have my _sincerest_ apologies. I knew not what I . . . I-I mean, I didn't realize that I . . . that you . . ." He drew a shaking hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry. I honestly have no words. I can only beg your forgiveness for my shameful behavior."

She took a deep breath, inwardly quaking in reaction. "Cullen, there's no need to apologize. You clearly were in the throes of a powerful nightmare. I was concerned. Are you all right?"

He rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn't look her in the eye. His other hand gripped the blanket in his lap with whitened knuckles. "I am . . . as well as can be expected. The nightmares are worse without lyrium, but I will endure."

"Do you have them often?"

"They are nothing I cannot handle," he said, stoically setting his jaw.

"Cullen, talk to me," she said softly. "It's not like you to miss a council meeting. That's why I came."

He swore. "Have I? Blast it all! I pledged to you that my . . . affliction would not interfere with my duty to the Inquisition." He moved to stand up, but at the last moment, remembered his lack of clothing and pulled the fallen blanket back up to his chest. He gave her a look of embarrassed consternation that, in spite of everything, made her bite back a smile.

"I'll let you dress." She moved to the ladder to wait in his office below.

Once she was alone, the cold, hard guilt set in, sinking like a rock in the pit of her stomach, and she started to shake. She paced across his office a few times before stopping to lean an unsteady hand on a bookshelf. Focusing on her worry for Cullen had allowed her to ignore her own complicity in the kiss. She touched fingertips to her slightly swollen lips, which still tingled from the force of Cullen's mouth. The imprint of his rough stubble.

_Oh my._ What would Solas think?

She suddenly imagined Solas standing beside Cullen's bed in his usual scholarly pose, hands lightly clasped behind his back, and giving cheerful pointers to Cullen on technique.

An ironic bark of laughter escaped her. What _would _Solas think? Would it even bother him at all? She had no idea. She squeezed her eyes shut in a vain attempt to block out such thoughts, thumping her forehead lightly on the side of the bookshelf, wishing the jolt could erase the past few minutes.

She jumped at the thud of boots on flagstone behind her and turned to see that Cullen had joined her, apparently sliding down the ladder in his haste. He had his belt in hand and was still wrapping it around the plain tunic he'd thrown on, leaving aside his more complicated armor for once. Her traitor mind admired how the tunic pulled slightly across his broad shoulders. Broad like Solas's . . .

She shook her head violently to dislodge the thought.

"Let us go," he said gruffly, striding toward the door.

"Cullen, wait."

He stopped and looked at her uncertainly. His face was still flushed.

"They can wait for a few more minutes. I want to know—I need to know—are you okay?" She let her genuine concern color her voice. "I know you're going through a rough time. The council can proceed without you, if need be."

He frowned and considered her question for a moment. "Inquisitor," he started, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I appreciate that you're trying to help. I do. But the best thing we can do is to forget that this ever happened and proceed as normal. I . . ." He cleared his throat and wet his lower lip with the tip of his tongue. "Please. I need the solace of my work." His haunted eyes begged for her to understand. And she could, to some extent.

"Okay." They both headed to the door, but she stopped again. "Cullen, just one thing . . ."

He turned back to her, and his jaw clenched tightly.

"_Delilah_. How did you know?" She tilted her head to the side. "I haven't told anyone here."

He flushed. "Oh. Um. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to invade your privacy. Erm. Solas told me. Once."

She frowned. "I see."

He escaped out the door, and she followed more slowly.

ooXXoo

The rest of her day could only be described as even more awkward. Cullen couldn't bring himself to even look at her throughout their meeting, to the point where even Cassandra noticed how oddly he was acting. He had avoided Del from thereon in.

Then she spent the afternoon dodging Solas who seemed to be everywhere she went around Skyhold, greeting her with his slow smile and melodious _Hello_.

At dinner, it was the same. Cullen fixedly kept his gaze averted from her and was even more taciturn than normal. Josephine, Leliana and Cassandra passed curious glances between them.

And Solas had stopped smiling.

Del tossed and turned that night in her giant canopied bed. The full moon outside her windows filled the room with light, mocking her attempts at sleep. The times when she finally dozed off it was to troubled dreams. Troubled and . . . stirring.

No sooner would she slip into the Fade than she would be replaying the unfortunate scene in Cullen's bedroom. Almost like an outsider, she watched herself collapse back under Cullen's weight, moaning wantonly as he covered her and plundered her mouth. Sometimes she embraced him, her hands slipping around his back, reveling in the feel of his bare skin, pulse charging, pulling him closer. Sometimes she kissed him back and her fingers threaded into his unexpected hair, brushed against his rounded ears, and everything was wrong. Sometimes she stopped him just as his lips touched hers and she shook him awake from his nightmare. She tried to push for this last outcome, eventually half-convincing herself that this was how it actually had happened.

But, this time was different.

She must be more deeply asleep now, she reasoned for a split second, since she was suddenly fully present within her body. She felt every sensation, every ill-considered impulse, as the scene unfolded yet again. She felt the worn smoothness of the wood from the uppermost rung of Cullen's ladder. She heard the rustle of Cullen's frenzied thrashing in the bed.

Unlike the other dreams, this one had heightened detail and clarity. More like the true memory. Cullen's bedroom, and the man in the bed, looked just as real as they had that morning. But there was also a strange watchfulness to the quiet as the ambient noise from Skyhold had vanished, almost like it listened in.

As she drew near the bed, she saw the lines around his eyes crinkle in anguish. She tasted the tang of his fear on her tongue.

"Not the same . . . never be the same . . ."

His tortured mumbles were accompanied this time by a new sound: a whispered echo, claiming a new narrative in Cullen's own voice.

_I trusted you because it was my duty, _Cullen's echoing voice said accusingly. _I trust _her_ because she has earned my trust. It is not the same. You could never be the same._

The echo seemed to fill in the words he hadn't uttered aloud, completing his half sentences and revealing the fears that gave rise to his nightmare.

As she had in reality, Del tried to comfort him, and he shot up from the bed, clasping her shoulders. Her heart raced in surprise, even though she'd been expecting it.

"...wouldn't ask me to . . . She's nothing like you," he mumbled and again the echo whispered on.

_She wouldn't ask me to violate my principles, _the voice cried._ Not like you did. She's nothing like you._

Cullen pressed his forehead to hers, so close now that their breath mingled. Del tried to pull away, but she couldn't deviate from the events of the real memory. She could only watch and wait for the inevitable.

"I know you would never ask," he said to her. "I know you."

_I know you would never ask. I know you. I trust you. I need you. _

Although she was caught in the truth of her own actions, Del wondered at the veracity of these sentiments from Cullen. It was a dream, after all, and presumably Cullen was just a figment of her imagination. She was not aware that he had any kind of romantic interest in her. Were these echoes only her sleep-muddled guesses as to the meaning of his mumbled words? Or was there some more powerful truth at work here?

Determined to change the outcome of the dream, Del prepared to rebuff Cullen and wake him up, but when his mouth pressed to hers, she froze again, locked into the predestined kiss. He whispered her real name against her lips and she succumbed. Again. Her body reveled at the rough nap of the blanket against her back, the press of his body on hers, while her mind recoiled at the guilt of her actions.

Somehow she was trapped in this careful retelling of the memory in the way that it really had unfolded, and she was powerless to change it.

All around her, the room began to darken and she felt an abrupt chill. The feeling of being watched intensified.

At last, the moment arrived when she would break away from her indiscretion and put an end to the kiss, but before she could, all light in the room snuffed out. Cullen's weight was gone and a cold, swift wind descended upon her. She sat up in alarm and the vortex of air swirled angrily around her, pulling at her hair, skimming her cheek, enfolding her in its rough embrace, taking her breath away with its ferocity. She cowered before the intensity of the storm and held her hand up to protect her face.

The roar of the maelstrom changed in pitch, like it was no longer confined to Cullen's small room. Under her knees she felt not the soft give of Cullen's bed, but instead the hard pebbles and grit of the cold ground. In the distance she thought she heard the mournful howl of a wolf.

She blinked several times as the roar of the wind slowed to a whine and the utter blackness receded. The pale fingers of dawn crept up behind distant mountain peaks. Overhead, the bleak light of the few remaining stars twinkled down at her without pity. Against the lightening sky, Del could make out a broken archway and the outline of colossal statue of a wolf. The wind picked up again, whipping her hair into her face and she heard the crunch of footsteps. She blinked and, through her fingers, saw the familiar silhouette of a broad shouldered, smooth pated elf. The shadowed embodiment of her guilt, stalking toward her.

Then, she was sitting up with a gasp back in her own bed, automatically raising her hand defensively against a now non-existent whirlwind. She squinted in the stillness at the dawn sky brightening outside her windows.

She took several gulping breaths and her rapid pulse started to slow. She wiped away the damp sweat from her upper lip. Her bedclothes were twisted about her like she'd tossed and turned. Maybe that's what she had felt ensnaring her as her guilty nightmare almost forced her to confront Solas about her misstep.

She let herself fall backwards, plopping back down on her pillow with a heavy sigh, and stared up at the canopy. One thing was clear: it was time for her to step up and be an adult.

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**A/N2: ****I wasn't sure how to deal with the Elvish in this story. I stole the chapter titles from In Uthenara, the Elven eulogy, so I thought I would go ahead and provide the translations here. Next up: Chapter 2 of 2: **_**Vir lath sa'vunin, **_**where Del will confront her missteps, um, quite directly. ;)**

**(Ma) vhenan – My heart**

**Vir dirthera ****– W****e tell the tale [[a line from the Elven eulogy; see wiki/Codex_entry:_In_Uthenera]]**

**Vir lath sa'vunin ****– W****e love another day [[a line from the Elven eulogy,**** see wiki/Codex_entry:_In_Uthenera]]**

_**Thanks so much for reading! **_


	2. Vir lath sa'vunin

_**People Will Talk**_

_**By R2s Muse**_

_Disclaimer: The Dragon Age setting and its characters belong to Bioware. I'm just borrowing!_

**A/N: Here we get to the 'come to Andraste' part, but a bit more NSFW. FYI. :)**

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**Chapter 2: Vir lath sa'vunin**

Del waited until the sun was actually above the horizon before padding into the silence of Solas's rotunda. The mysterious frescoes appeared more sinister in the lingering darkness, but the elf wasn't in his usual spot sleeping on the couch. Nor could she find him in any of his other usual haunts around Skyhold. Eventually, she gave up and moved on to Cullen's door.

She knocked loudly, expecting he might be upstairs given the early hour, but the door open immediately.

"Inquisitor!" Cullen said in surprise. He was dressed once again in his usual armor, looking prepared for the day even if the circles under his eyes had deepened. Behind him, she could see reports strewn across his desk and the candles lit. He had been awake for some time as well. "What would you have of me?"

She tried to think of something clever or diplomatic to say, but failed. "We need to talk."

"As you wish." He stepped back to allow her to enter, rubbing the back of his neck as he eyed her warily.

"So," she started, wringing her hands awkwardly. She wasn't quite sure where to start. "You're up early."

"As are you, Inquisitor."

"I couldn't sleep. Bad dreams."

A muscle jumped in his jaw. "I can sympathize."

Like a coward, she skirted the issue some more. "How are you feeling?"

His face closed off even further into an expression she couldn't read. "Inquisitor, there is no need for you to check in on me. I am well and will continue to perform to the best of my capabilities." He crossed his arms where he still stood near the door.

She ran a hand over her face in frustration. "Dammit, Cullen, I'm not Cassandra! I'm not going to relieve you from duty at the first sign of weakness. I'm here because I am your friend and I care about you. A-a-and I'm worried that I've irrevocably compromised that friendship b-by invading your privacy . . . and putting you in a compromising position. And now everything's awkward. And it's all my fault. And I want to fix everything to the way it was." It all came out in a rush, surprising both of them.

He frowned at her and didn't say anything for a moment. "I fail to see how any of what happened yesterday was your fault."

"I shouldn't have been checking in on you. I should have maintained our boundaries! But, after you confided in me the other day, I wanted to be worthy of that trust. A-a-and, it seems that, well, it seems that apparently, I am just not a very trustworthy person." She looked away, awash again in guilt about Solas and feeling hot tears prick at her tired, sandy eyelids.

His brow furrowed for a moment. "With all due respect, Inquisitor, you are wrong." The corner of lip quirked upward to soften his words.

She snorted. "Tell me something I don't know," she mumbled, ending in a pathetic sniff.

"Inquisitor . . . Del," he corrected himself. He took a deep breath. "You are worthy of trust. Ask anyone in the Inquisition and they would agree. But more importantly . . . you certainly have my trust. And I don't say that lightly."

"Really?" She looked up at him hopefully, feeling slightly better even though none of that had anything to do with Solas's opinion on the matter.

"Without a doubt," he said promptly. "I think . . ." He paused and wet his lower lip before continuing, "I think there's a certain bond a leader must build with those that follow her. The basis of that bond is trust. It's what gives people confidence in following her orders. The faith that they ultimately follow their own principles in following her. A good leader ensures she never breaks that faith."

She risked a look at his face, and he returned her gaze with sincerity. His words resonated even more after what she'd seen of his nightmare. "Your faith has been broken before," she said softly.

His nostrils flared. "Yes," he answered, even though she hadn't asked a question. "I trusted Meredith that her ends justified the means. Until I learned the full extent of her ends. And her means." His mouth thinned to a line. "And I defended her. Until the end. As a good templar ought," he said bitterly, his voice filled with self-loathing. He turned and moved a few paces away.

Del was speechless. Her own feelings of guilt were nothing compared to this. A stray kiss was worlds away from his life's betrayal. "I'm sorry," was all she could think to say.

He turned back to her. "Don't be sorry. Please. That's what I'm trying to say. Badly." He broke into a lopsided smile. "At the time, I said I would never again trust blindly. And I do not. You have earned my trust. Time and again. Not because of what you expect. But because of what you give. You're a leader worth following."

_She's nothing like you._ The words from her dream made much more sense now. He must have been dreaming about Meredith. But his nightmare was also about Del and about what she could become. His trust was such a fragile, precious thing that she now held in her hands. It made her feel even less worthy.

"Then I don't want either of us to be sorry for what happened yesterday," she said. "It doesn't change anything."

His face immediately clouded. "Are you certain?"

"Cullen, you were hurting. I . . . I heard you. I think you were dreaming about Meredith, weren't you?"

The guarded look was back but after a pause, he nodded.

"You said the nightmares are worse without lyrium. So this must be a common occurrence for you. I just wish there was more I could do to help you through this. I . . . I tried to wake you. But I think I must have just startled you. You needed a . . . connection, and I was there. It doesn't have to mean any more than that."

"But I kissed you," he said in an accusatory tone.

"Yes, you did. But now we're awake. And I hope, still friends." She smiled at him. "Our trust can't be broken this easily."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, but he still looked worried. "Does Solas know?"

Her face fell and she shook her head. "I haven't talked to him yet."

"And, you two are still . . .?"

She laughed, a short bitter sound. "I think so. Maybe. I hope so."

"I regret that I may have created problems for you on that front. More problems, from the sound of it."

"Like I said, this is also my fault. It didn't help that I'm admittedly a little attention starved right now. And I'm afraid you're quite the good kisser."

For just a fraction of second, his eyes smoldered with the fire she'd seen in him the day before, hot and unrepentant, before his frown returned. She swallowed hard.

"Del, I respect both you and Solas too much to . . . well, in principle for this to ever have happened in the first place." He shook his head, looking intensely embarrassed again, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I know that. Which is why I don't want this to be awkward. I need you in my life too much." She impulsively reached out and took his hand, squeezing it.

The move clearly took him aback, but instead of disentangling himself from the situation, he lightly dropped a chivalrous kiss onto the back of her hand. "Then, I will be there," he said simply.

"I'm glad. Especially now since . . ." She took a fortifying breath. "I have to go find Solas."

"Please, tell him . . . tell him I'll answer for my actions, if you think it will help."

"Thank you for the thought, Cullen, but if Solas takes any issue with this, he'll have to take it up with me."

She turned to go, but from behind her she heard, "Oh, and Del, for what it's worth, Solas told me about your full name when we first found you in Haven. He was trying to find out who you were while you were unconscious, on our orders. It seems that he can learn the truth of things from someone's dreams, and so at first, we all thought that was your true name. I'm sorry if that was privileged information. We didn't know."

She nodded meditatively, disappointed but unsurprised. "I see. Thank you for telling me," she said and began her search again for Solas.

ooXXoo

After looking everywhere she could think of, including the rotunda three times, she trudged in defeat up the seemingly endless steps to her tower. She shuffled into her bedroom, but then froze in her tracks.

Backlit against the wall of windows was a familiar form with his back to her and arms crossed as he looked out across the frozen river far below her tower.

"I have been waiting for you," Solas said unnecessarily before turning around. No greeting or smile. His expression was closed, his face composed. Like it had been in the Exalted Plains before he killed the mages who had harmed his friend.

"I've been looking everywhere for you," she said. "You weren't in the rotunda."

"No." He paused. "Were you with Cullen just now?"

Her eyebrows quirked up, surprised both at the prescience of his question and that he sounded so suspicious. And almost jealous.

_Does he know? How could he know?_

"Coincidentally, I was. Why do you ask?" she said coolly.

"For apparently no reason at all," he said in an equally cool voice, all his barriers infuriatingly intact.

"We were talking," she offered. "About you, in fact. About how much he respects you." Which was technically true.

"Is that so? He has a peculiar way of showing it." His lip curled up in a sneer.

"What do you mean?" she said nervously, her guilt fluttering up from the pit of her stomach.

"Oh come now, Inquisitor," he said, looking down his nose at her. His blue eyes were stone cold but his words were clipped and heated. "Do not insult my intelligence! It was only a matter of time before you took up with the fine Commander after I released you."

"You . . . released me?" She gaped at him and her heart convulsed in pain. "But, when? Why?"

"We both have known that there was no future between us. So there is no need to pretend. Not for my sake."

"I don't think I am the one pretending here."

He snorted in disdain. "And do you claim you are not involved with the Commander?" he scoffed.

"I do."

His face darkened into a menacing scowl and a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. "Your lies do you no credit."

She ground her teeth, going on the offensive. "Then why are you here? If you're done with me, then why does it matter if I've taken up with Cullen?"

He became very still, but some kind of war raged inside of him. "You are quite right, Inquisitor," he said in a voice deadly quiet. "I will leave you be." He quickly strode toward the stairs, so she ran after him and grabbed his arm.

He rounded on her instantly with a snarl, and the look on his face, the violence he clearly held in check, made her drop her hand and back away. "Solas . . . please," was all she could say. Fear bloomed inside her along with an unexpected tendril of desire, drawn to his dark fury like a moonflower to the night.

He studied her for a moment, his normally serene face sharpened by anger, his hooded eyes running over her face, her body. His civilized façade was giving way to more primal impulses. Control won and he turned back toward her door.

"Solas, don't—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he had rounded on her again, seizing her shoulders in his unexpectedly strong grip and crushing his lips to hers, taking her breath away with his intensity. His hands roamed over her possessively and held her tightly against his hard chest. She clung to him, opening herself to his kiss, and willed him to see the truth in her.

He pressed her flat against the wall and his mouth roamed. His hand tangled in her short hair, canting her head sharply to the side as he nipped gently down her neck. She thought she caught a faint growl in the back of his throat, which did terrible things to her. Her breathing sped up and her knees trembled.

Then he released her just as abruptly and she almost fell. She gasped and leaned against the wall for support, feeling dazed.

"Forgive me," he said in a tight growl, barely under control. He paced away from her in tight circles, like a caged animal. "You have made your choice."

"Yes. You. It's always been you."

His brows drew down and his anger darkly flared again. "That was not the case yesterday when you gave yourself to Cullen."

". . . gave . . .? But, how did you . . .? He told you?" she asked, perplexed. How could Solas possibly know what happened yesterday?

He threw back his head, glaring down at her with that condescending sneer he turned upon the misguided and the stupid. "He didn't have to tell me! I saw your clandestine tryst in his room. Did you think you could hide your secrets from your dreams?"

Her mouth fell open. _Of course._ "You . . . you came into my dream last night? That was really you?" she gasped. She pictured Solas's silhouette, stalking toward her in the dream, like he had done just now. The bitter darkness and angry tempest that had interrupted that tryst. Someone actually had been watching.

He set his jaw and crossed his arms instead of answering.

"How dare you? So, this is how you knew about my given name, as well? Invading my privacy through my dreams?"

He flinched at her accusations, but then the arrogant mask was back in place. "Sometimes the Fade takes me where it will. In this case, it revealed your deception."

"But dreams are not truth, as you so often tell me!" she cried, thinking of how that final dream had been interrupted early to show only the most damning parts.

"Dreams can be nudged to be more forthcoming." He sounded smug, suggesting that there was a reason the dream had felt preternaturally real—and unchangeable. "So I am afraid I had a first-hand view of your dalliance."

"It wasn't a dalliance. It was an accident."

He laughed mockingly. "Is that the word the Dalish use these days?"

". . . which you would know, if you had bothered to watch the whole thing," she continued, ignoring his comment and starting to raise her voice. "I'm guessing you must have missed the part where I finally woke Cullen up from his _nightmare_. Where we both were mortified and apologized. Where no one . . . gave themselves to anyone!"

They glared at each other, but she could see that he was processing this, testing the truth of her claims, questioning what he thought he had seen, and what he had assumed. He stepped closer to her so that she had to look up at him.

"Truly?" he asked in almost a whisper. The word trembled in the air between them, fragile and raw.

"Truly. Nothing further happened. There's nothing between Cullen and I."

Although he stood perfectly still, the aura of danger and violence about him ebbed away.

At last, he lifted a hand and trailed his fingers down the side of her face. "Forgive me, vhenan," he murmured. "I am so often drawn to you in the Fade, unwittingly, I could not stop myself. I had to know. And . . . I am not often thrown by things that happen in dreams." He traced her lips with his thumb and then cupped her cheek. "Jealousy is an unfamiliar emotion."

She leaned into his palm. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. Can you forgive _me_?"

A playful light shone from his eyes. "For invading another man's bed and allowing yourself to be kissed to distraction?"

"Oh, it sounds terrible that way!" she wailed, curling against his chest and hiding her face. "I was just trying to help!"

He slipped his arms around her and dropped a kiss on her bowed head. "There is nothing to forgive, d'alen. You had reason to doubt, and you are your own woman."

She looked up at him from within the circle of his arms. "I'm sorry I upset you. But . . . wait! You're not . . . releasing me, are you?" she said in a sudden panic, grabbing his tunic in two desperate fists.

He said something in Elvish that she didn't understand. Something that sounded sad about _fate_ and maybe _torment_. In the common tongue he said, "It seems I cannot."

He lowered his head and gently kissed her, gradually becoming more urgent. His strong fingers splayed against her back and held her against him as he deepened the kiss. She twined her arms around his neck and rose up slightly on her toes in her eagerness.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted her up, settling her on his hips and pulling her legs around his waist. "What are you doing?" she gasped, smiling.

"Ideally, kissing you to distraction."

He captured her mouth again as he walked them toward her bed, holding her without seeming effort, and laid her down. His lips traced along the sensitive line of her neck to where her pulse fluttered in excitement, his pace slow and deliberate and maddening.

"Such distraction . . ." he murmured against her skin, "that you will forget your real name." His hands methodically unsnapped the front of her tunic, and he followed with hot wet kisses, forging an inexorable path downwards that made her tremble in anticipation. "That the only name cried upon your lips will be mine, now and forever."

He continued his path lower, dipping his tongue into her navel, nipping at her hip, while his knowing hands ably removed the rest of her clothing. Now he spoke in lyrical Elvish, murmuring against her bared skin with each new reveal as if leaving behind an invisible imprint of his worship. She quivered at each syllable, the cadence of the unknown words thrumming across her flesh and pulsing through her most intimate places.

Caught up in his spell, she mewled something that wasn't a word, but a feeling, a pledge, a plea. He answered by expertly bringing her right to the edge, but no further, keeping her in an exquisite state of heightened anticipation.

She was practically keening with want until she very well might have forgotten her own name. All she could gasp was his, first in exultation, then in question, and then a breathless jumble of commands and entreaties.

Finally, in wonder she cried, "Solas!" Then she crashed over the edge under a thousand mindless waves of sensation.

She was still shuddering and gasping for breath, eyes shut to savor the moment, when she felt hasty kisses pressed to her lower lip, at the corner of her mouth, on the edge of her jaw, imperfectly placed in his urgency. She opened her eyes and her arms to him as he moved over her, thrilling to feel his now bared skin sliding upon hers.

He continued his Elvish narration, lips pressed just below her ear, his smooth voice becoming rough. His words stumbled, turning into a moan as they came together, and then continued as they found their rhythm.

She finally caught a few words, endearments, her name, but they became more fractured as he brought them both back up to the precipice. She clung to him, fingers digging into the muscles in his back, building even higher, until soon she was crying his name again to the heavens, to the rest of Skyhold and anyone who might be in earshot.

He wasn't far behind, and as he followed her over the edge, his words suddenly came to a shuddering halt. He pressed his forehead to hers and looked deeply into her eyes. With no barriers of any kind between them, she truly saw him for the first time, and his vulnerability. Elation, blissful contentment, unexpected joy, but underneath also fear, a piercing loneliness and soul-deep sorrow. Then, she was blinded by an otherworldly flash of silver.

She blinked and the moment was gone. Blue eyes smiled down at her and, with a contented sigh, Solas collapsed against her side, resting his face in the crook of her neck.

She gathered him to her and delighted at the pleasant weight of him atop her, limbs tangled haphazardly with hers, warm breath lightly fanning her throat. He started to stir again, pressing a few soft kisses to her neck before lifting himself up on an elbow above her. A small smile played on his face as he gazed down at her lovingly. Under the warmth of his scrutiny she felt unexpectedly naked and belatedly realized that with no barriers between them, he could see her truly as well.

He trailed his fingers down the side of her face. "Properly distracted, I would say," he said, sounding pleased with himself.

She surprised herself by blushing, apparently still so distracted she didn't know how else to respond other than to giggle.

His trailing fingers continued down her neck, between her breasts, across her flat stomach to her hip, making her shiver. He sighed. "I should go before we provide more fodder for the gossips."

"Ar lath ma. I don't care if people know," she said, biting her lip and wondering how he would respond. Now that she knew he still cared, she was prepared to declare her love from the tallest tower herself. Leliana no doubt had already received a report about them anyway.

He leaned down and gave her another long kiss, sweet yet thorough. "Nor do I, ma sa'lath. But our detailed comings and goings and . . . _comings_ . . ." He grinned wolfishly and pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat before continuing. "Those details are for us alone. For our sake. And for Cullen's after the foolishness yesterday."

He moved to sit up, but she panicked. "Don't leave," she said, pulling him back.

He immediately rolled back to her side and gathered her in his arms, tucking her head under his chin. He held her quietly for a moment, somehow sensing that she had meant something longer term than just leaving her bed. "You are part of me, ma vhenan. Now and forever."

She smiled against his chest, thrilling at that phrase again. _Now and forever._ She held it to her, cherishing it, and ignored the hint of sadness in his voice as he said it.

He leaned back and traced a line down the bridge of her nose with his. "Never forget that. Even when I am not at your side. Promise me." He kissed her again, once, twice, thrice, and her head spun. "Promise me," he repeated, as if this one point was very important.

She nodded. "I promise. No more doubts."

His eyes fell shut at her answer, whether from relief or sorrow, she couldn't tell.

When he opened his eyes again, their fire was rekindled. An answering warmth unfurled inside her. "Ma nuvenin, vhenan," he said, giving her a suggestive smile and dipping his head toward her. "Let them talk."

**Fin**

* * *

**A/N2: Sooo, this was my first time writing Solas, my new love, although inevitably, it would also feature Cullen. LOL Baby steps. I hope you enjoyed it, gentle reader. Thanks for reading! **

**More Elvish translations for reference:**

**Ma nuvenin – As you say/wish**

**(Ma) vhenan – My heart**

**Ar lath ma – I love you**

**Ma sa'lath – My one love**

**Vir lath sa'vunin ****– W****e love another day [[a line from the Elven eulogy,**** see wiki/Codex_entry:_In_Uthenera]]**


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